


Rails

by Axiloci



Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: Furry, M/M, Romance, Short, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axiloci/pseuds/Axiloci
Summary: 26 year old Grant has lived in a small, no-name Oregon town for his entire life, and despises it every second. After getting fired from his job as a construction worker, though, Grant decides it's finally time to leave. Together with Odin, a shady wolf from out of town, he hops a freight train and leaves town in search of a better life out on the rails.Chapter length usually between 1900 and 2400 words. New chapters every Monday.





	Rails

Grant often found himself at the bridge overlooking the local railyard, especially in the past couple of weeks. He came here at night to unwind after the long days, enjoying watching the trains as they came in and out under the harsh electric lights that illuminated most of the yard. When they came in, the loud noise was an easy distraction from the troubles of the day, but often there were long periods of silence. Only the wind in the green trees and the cooing and chirping of night creatures. Fall was here, though, and soon it’d be too cold to come out here. If only he could just hitch a ride on one of these unbound trains and travel far, far away.

He remembered the awful day he’d had a few weeks ago. It started like any other. Waking up needlessly early, bags under his eyes, and starting to get ready. He looked at the date on his phone while drinking his morning coffee and realized that September had gone by in a blink, for it was already past the equinox. Autumn was imminent. He was hanging on by a thread in his small townhouse.

He entered the bathroom and stripped down. Before getting dressed, he took a moment to survey himself in the mirror. He was a wreck. The twenty-six-year-old lynx had a nice, strong build with slightly defined abs and the kind of face that people could trust. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the rest, though. He hadn’t even showered the previous night, too tired to take care of himself, so his brownish-gray fur was all matted and greasy. That was especially bad as the weather got colder and his fur got thicker. His eyes were an ugly shade of green. He thought the tufts of fur on the tips of his ears, characteristic of lynxes, made him look silly but had given up on trimming it. And, though his face was likable, he still hated his jawline and short snout. He didn’t like his spotted fur pattern either, even though anyone he’d ever asked had said that they thought it was fine. 

He got dressed, brushed his teeth, and left home, feeling groggy and unprepared for the day. Met with the brisk morning air, he felt just woken up enough to drive. He got in his silver sedan and began to drive. In what felt like seconds, he had already closed the car door behind him, finding himself at work. He didn’t remember the drive over.

Grant was a construction worker and hated every minute of it. Though he had gone to college for marketing, he had been unable to get anywhere with the skills he learned. The only jobs that would accept him were either entirely demeaning (he worked at the local McDonalds for all of two weeks before snapping at an idiotic customer and getting fired) or focused on manual labor. He was on a small team repairing a storm-damaged road that day. 

“Don’t forget your hard hat, Grant,” his fox coworker advised with a smile as he walked past.

“Thanks, Tom,” he replied, grabbing it from his car. He totally would have forgotten.

The day had gotten hot as they worked on the road. They were all working with arms exposed and covered in sweat. It was miserable, but Grant hadn’t foreseen that it was about to become even more miserable.

A black pickup truck stopped in front of the barriers keeping random cars out of the construction site. Out stepped Harry Green: an ugly anteater and his boss.

“Tucker! A word.”

Grant nodded to Tom and headed over to Harry. “Something the matter, Mr. Green?”

Green took a deep sigh, setting his arms on the barrier. “There’s no easy way to do this, Tucker. You may have heard that we’ve been strapped for cash, recently. Well, we’ve no choice but to let some workers go. You’ve been a good employee, Tucker, but I’m afraid you’re one of those workers.”

Grant’s world began to collapse around him. He had  _ nothing _ except this job. His family wouldn’t support him. He barely got into this job, and his resume was nothing worth talking about. He couldn’t survive unemployment.

“You… you’re firing me?”

“I’m sorry, Tucker.”

“Please, Mr. Green sir, this job is all I’ve got. Is there  _ anything _ I can do to keep it?”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Grant stood there, thunderstruck. Was this how it all ended? “Let go” from the company he’d been working at for three years? Yes, he hated every day of it, but he needed the money. He started seeing spots in his vision and heard a ringing in his ear. His mouth hung open, trying to find words, but there were none.

“You’ll be alright, Tucker. I’m sure you can find more work around here.” He just stood there. “Go home and get some rest, now.”

Green got back in his pickup truck and left. Grant watched it until it rounded a corner and was obscured by green trees.

“You okay? What was that all about?” Tom asked, coming over when Grant stood still.

“I… just got fired…”

“Oh… God, Grant, I’m so sorry. If it helps, I might be able to…”

The ringing in his ears began to take over all other sounds. Not entirely aware of what he was doing, he walked away from Tom, his feet dragging on the pavement, over to his car. He drove off without another word. Tom stood there at the barriers, watching as he drove off.

Grant didn’t know what he was doing or where he was driving. Aimlessly, he drove around town, that constant ringing in his ears. He had no options. This small town, in the middle of the forests of Oregon, was dying. And he was dying with it. He got home late at night and collapsed onto the couch. The springs dug into his back, but he hardly noticed them.

He woke up depressed. Despite his nonexistent expectations, he forced himself to get back on the search. In the next two weeks, he landed a single interview but didn’t get the job. He just couldn’t get into the mindset. His rent was due soon, and after that, he’d be out of money.

A thought had entered Grant’s head at some point over the past two weeks. Practically his entire life, he’d wanted to leave this town, but he never had the chance. Maybe he could finally leave. He started to think about it a lot, but he wasn’t convinced it was the way to go. He didn’t know what he’d do or where he’d go.

He began going to the railyard after he got fired because he had pleasant memories there with his mother when he was young. Although she had passed, he held her close to her heart and felt this place to be comforting. 

That’s when a crazier thought had entered Grant’s head. He’d been watching the freight trains come and go all day, envying their ability to go wherever the railroad led them. Graffiti on the side of one of the large red containers reminded him of stories he’d heard in school about hobos illegally riding freight trains during the Great Depression in search of work. It was dangerous and stupid, but they got where they needed, and a lot of them must’ve found work that way. Or died. It was a ludicrous idea in the modern age, but that didn’t keep the idea out of his head.

He told himself it was crazy, and yet he began researching freight hopping over the next few days. Very deeply. He watched videos, read articles, and caught up on the history of it. It couldn’t have been  _ too _ hard to board a freight train, especially when it wasn’t moving. And sure, he could go to prison, but at least that was  _ somewhere _ . And he wouldn’t have to get on very many trains, only enough to land himself somewhere new where he could get a job. Maybe he’d go south and work on a farm. Or far east, and continue in construction. There were endless options if he just hopped onto a train.

He tried to dismiss the idea. Surely he could find work before he completely ran out of food and money. Thinking about money, though, just made him depressed. He hadn’t worried about anything except money and bills and rent since graduation. It was an endless cycle of stress, living paycheck to paycheck just to scrape by. Maybe he could spend a few days freight hopping just to mix things up, and to take his mind off things. A highly unconventional vacation, he told himself.

In the present, Grant gave a depressed sigh and put his arms on the railings of the bridge. A train was rolling into the yard underneath the bridge, and he watched it with disinterest, his mind on other things. It caught the harsh white of the lamps on the bridge as it continued to roll, constantly flickering from light to dark to light. The rumble of it over the rails sent a shiver up his spine, even hurt his head a little bit. He lashed his tail irritably, wishing it’d stop already.

He was about to give up and find somewhere else to wind down when a shadowy shape hopped off the back of one of the carts. With interest piqued, he watched as this person, who was obscured by the shadow of the bridge and the nearby trees, looked quickly around and darted to the edge of the trainyard. They disappeared into the bushes. He mulled over this person, wondering who they were and where they rode in from. Someday soon, maybe in the next week, he’d hop a train and get out of this black hole of a town. The only problem was that he didn’t know the first practical thing about freight hopping, even with all he’d researched. He knew  _ what _ to do, but it’s not like he’d ever actually  _ done _ it. But if it was his only escape, then so be it. He’d thought about it long enough, and he’d lost all hope in any other options. He’d be leaving soon.

His train of thought was disrupted when he noticed someone coming up the bridge. He gave them a sideways glance: it was a male timber wolf of similar build to him, wearing dark colors and carrying a large backpack. Mid to late twenties. Based on his heavy steps and the minute sway as he walked, he seemed rather tired. This wasn’t the same person who just jumped off the train, was it? He was coming from the same side that that person disappeared into, not to mention how shady he looked with the dark, dirty, and ripped clothing and the mask covering his snout.

He returned his gaze to the trainyard, but kept the suspicious wolf in the corner of his sight, keenly aware of his position. Just as the stranger passed behind him, he felt something slip out of his back pocket — his wallet! Grant spun around immediately and grabbed the wolf’s wrist, seeing the wallet in his hand. In the light, he saw that the wolf had bright, blue eyes and a dark gray fur pattern over his forehead and ears, with a black dash between his eyes. They stood there, eyes locked, wrist in hand. 

_ Shit _ , thought Grant,  _ what do I do now? _


End file.
